


To Be Able to Forget Means Sanity

by Emrys MK (mk_malfoy)



Series: Merlin Episodes: AUs, Missing Scenes, and Inspired By [22]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Caring Merlin, Episode: s04e10 The Herald of a New Age, First Time, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic Revealed, Merlin takes care of Arthur, Missing Scene, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-16 04:22:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16078331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mk_malfoy/pseuds/Emrys%20MK
Summary: The morning after the spirit of a Druid child very nearly kills Arthur, Merlin makes a rather cheeky comment to Arthur about a hug. It seems out of place, and Arthur reacts accordingly, having no idea why Merlin made such a comment.This is the story of why Merlin made that comment.





	To Be Able to Forget Means Sanity

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Merlin Canon Fest 2018 - Episode 4X10: A Herald of A New Age
> 
> The title is from Jack London's book of short stories: _The Star Rover._
> 
> Many thanks to my amazing beta, Pelydryn!
> 
>  **Disclaimer** : Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Arthur stared in awe at a sniffling and shaking Elyan, not quite believing what had transpired.

That he was still alive, and that one of his most faithful knights was no longer possessed by the spirit of a young Druid boy, was no less than divine intervention from somewhere up above. Not that Arthur believed in such a thing, but how else was he to explain what had happened… or what hadn’t happened?

The fates were surely shining upon both of them this night.

Elyan’s rapid breathing began to calm somewhat, but his body continued to tremble. Arthur whispered that everything was alright as he glanced around and listened to his surroundings, on high alert for those who had no business being here at this late hour. Fortunately, there were no unfamiliar noises, merely the normal cacophony that blanketed Camelot as she slept each night: the hoot of an owl; the ever-present chirping of crickets; various birds, and whatever it was that decided to choose this exact moment to fly past the bright moon and let out a strange shrill screeching sound. 

Arthur couldn’t place what exactly it was; the shape resembled that of a dragon, but as he had killed the last of those years earlier, that was impossible.

Averting his eyes and focusing on the swaying trees and haunting shrine that enveloped him, it was comforting to hear familiar sounds, and not that of the distraught young boy whose spirit had taken over Elyan’s body. 

Arthur again shivered at the fresh memory and it sent a wave of terror through him. He suddenly felt cold.

The spirit of that little boy would have been right to take Arthur’s life for what he had done as a young prince.

Yet it had spared the now _King of Camelot_. The spirit had been forgiving.

Would Arthur have been the same if the situation were reversed?

He thought that, while he might have considered being lenient, he understood that in the end he more than likely wouldn’t have been.

It was a sobering realisation about himself that Arthur didn’t at all like, and he vowed to try to be more understanding. 

It wouldn’t be easy, but perhaps it was time to take Merlin’s advice and cease with his harsh, heat-of-the-moment judgements.

Perspiration gathered at the nape of Arthur’s neck, where it coalesced for a time before beginning its slow descent down his back. 

By this time his heart was racing so much that Arthur thought he could hear it (he wondered if Elyan could feel it), and it was impossible to ignore his laboured breathing. 

Someone spoke, but if they were talking to him, Arthur couldn’t tell. Through a fog, a vision of a blue tunic came into view. 

Was it Merlin?

Arthur hoped it was.

But if it was Merlin, he looked to be far away, much too far for Arthur to get to, at least in this current state he found himself in. It was all so very odd, as if he weren’t in his body, but viewing it from afar.

It was a feeling he’d experienced only a few times before:

The first had been one of the worst experience of Arthur’s life to date—at the age of sixteen he’d regrettably killed the son of Odin. 

It had been a horrible day.

Arthur recalled standing on the training field, staring in abject horror at the unmoving body of the other, wishing the boy would lift his head. Of course, that never happened, and Arthur had known straight away that the repercussions for Camelot would be vast.

The fear that had run through his body had been immeasurable, and he had been so very angry at his father for allowing this to happen. There had been shouting and threats, and attempts at comfort from Morgana, but it had all been on the periphery. Arthur had been the center of it all, yet it had been as if he were viewing it from afar.

The second time had been when his father died. Arthur now knew from Merlin the events that had taken place during those horrific days, but from the moment his father had been stabbed until the moment he last saw his body, Arthur could only recall bits and pieces of the traumatic time.

The third time had been when he’d witnessed Lancelot and Guinevere kissing—he’d known what he was seeing, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to believe it. His surroundings had seemingly evaporated around him. There had been voices, but they had been distant. He vaguely recalled sending Guinevere and Lancelot to the cells, and there was plenty of shouting in his memories, but again, it was as if he had been watching himself doing all of this. And again, it was only because of Merlin that he knew he had done these things. 

When he had voiced this odd phenomenon to Merlin not so many nights in the past, Arthur’s manservant had erroneously theorized that it was a way to protect the king from difficult situations. Arthur had scoffed at such nonsense—he was the king for goodness sake—what did a king need protecting from? He was the one responsible for the protection of his people.

But now Arthur wasn’t so sure Merlin’s hypothesis had been incorrect.

Someone called out his name, but Arthur couldn’t be bothered to think about that as a fear like none he could ever recall travelled through him. It left him wanting to scream, but he couldn’t.

“Arthur?” that same voice, familiar and soothing, cajoled. “We need to get you and Elyan back to the castle.”

Elyan. Why was Merlin talking about Elyan? But then Arthur remembered, and realised that Elyan was still hugging him, making occasional pained sounds. 

Another fissure of fear travelled through Arthur.

Guinevere’s brother had nearly died because of Arthur, and a young boy, probably no more than ten years of age, _had_ died because of Arthur.

Elyan was now free of the spirit and would most likely suffer no adverse effects, but that little boy, along with many others, hadn’t been so fortunate.

If anything had happened to Elyan, Arthur would have never forgiven himself. He’d promised Guinevere that he would keep her brother safe.

“Arthur?” Merlin called out again, but it was as if it were an echo, far far away. Where was he? Arthur blinked his eyes a few times as he remembered that Merlin had followed him to the former Druid camp.

Why had he done that?

The thought that Merlin was always there when Arthur needed him came to mind and made Arthur feel protected, but it was one of a million muddled thoughts running through his head, all jumbling into one.

Arthur felt as someone pried something away from him.

What was going on? Why was he confused?

Slowly, the world around Arthur came back into focus and he could see Merlin looking at him worriedly. Where was Elyan? Arthur turned around and saw his knight sitting against a tree. He appeared to be exhausted. Arthur understood.

“We need to get the two of you back to the castle, sire.”

Arthur returned his attention to Merlin as a wave of nausea hit him, and he turned away just in time to miss retching all over Merlin, although, when he thought about it, he had sicked up on Merlin before, so he wasn’t sure why he was reluctant to do so now. That was why he had a servant, was it not?

Perhaps, but Arthur hadn’t thought of Merlin as merely his servant in a very long while….

Best not to think about that.

Arthur closed his eyes and felt as if he were going to be sick again, but he felt something cool against his cheek and it served to stave off the impending sickness. He tried to open his eyes to see what it was, but he couldn’t muster the strength. He felt someone, no doubt Merlin, wiping his face and clothing, cleaning off the sick. Arthur was too weak to speak, but he knew Merlin would take good care of him. 

He always did.

Arthur began walking. He didn’t know how because he felt sluggish and so very tired. He could hear Merlin and Elyan talking softly, but again, it was as if he were in an echo chamber. 

As Merlin and Elyan continued to talk, Arthur wondered what Guinevere would have to say when she found out that her brother had nearly been killed because of him. She would be furious, and Arthur understood that she would have every right to feel that way. 

Yes, Arthur had banished her for sound reasons, and he didn’t wish to ever see her again, but just because he had done that and felt the way he did didn’t mean that Elyan’s sister couldn’t be upset about what could have happened to her brother.

Arthur sighed. Thinking about Guinevere hurt too much. Remembering the way she’d looked as she pulled the cart behind her, all her worldly possessions she owned within as she’d departed Camelot.

It was a punishment deserved—Arthur would have been right to do far worse to her—but the loss was immense and left Arthur lost and feeling very much alone.

Since that day Arthur had gone through the motions of life, but he had been a shell of himself. Truth be told, he still was, but at least Merlin didn’t allow him to completely lose himself in his morose musings. Arthur had wanted to forget… about everything, but Merlin had single-handedly forced Arthur to carry on and take care of his responsibilities. It was down to Merlin that Camelot’s king continued to be favoured by his subjects. 

Arthur would never admit it, even upon threat of death, but he was more thankful than he could ever say for Merlin. His ever-faithful servant would never understand how deep Arthur’s gratitude ran.

And that was for the best. 

No need to allow wishes and dreams to interfere with reality.

“How are you feeling, sire?” asked Merlin, his mouth close to Arthur’s ear, his warm hands on Arthur’s shoulders. “Do you need to stop and rest?”

Arthur shook his head and tried to sneer. He did not at all feel well, but he was the king and could surely make it to the castle. Who did Merlin think he was talking to? He rolled his eyes. Why was Merlin looking at him with such pity? Yes, Arthur knew the reason, but why couldn’t Merlin mind his own business? There was a protocol, and Merlin needed to follow it.

That Arthur would lament the loss if his servant did follow protocol didn’t escape him.

Arthur once again allowed his mind to take him away from the present, giving in to memories as his thoughts travelled to the day he, with the help of Morgause, had seen his mother. He had no idea if any of that had been real or not, but he thought it was probably the truth.

How could his father have sacrificed his mother for a child?

How could his father have allowed that child, at the age of sixteen, to kill another for such a senseless reason?

How could his father have asked his aged seventeen son to lead the massacre of a Druid camp?

As all of these memories and emotions welled within, Arthur could feel his heart speeding up, and the voices of Merlin and Elyan once again seemed to fade away to a mere echo.

How was it that Arthur missed his father so much that he physically ached?

It seemed as though they continued to walk for an eternity, but then Arthur heard Gaius’s voice and felt someone help him sit down. Then he was pushed back and his head rested against a pillow. He could hear Gaius making comments as he examined him. There were words to the effect of _shock_ , _needs rest_.

Suddenly the world around him came into clearer focus and Arthur could once again hear and see normally. He noticed Elyan seated on the bench by the table, Gaius examining him.

“How is he?” Arthur asked, turning to Merlin, who was looking through a book, or at least he had been, but now he looked like a stag who knew he was about to become someone’s next meal as he quickly closed the tome and cleared his throat. He attempted to look innocent.

Arthur nearly laughed. Yes, Merlin was indeed naïve about many things, but his actions had never been innocent. The boy’s mind was constantly churning. 

Arthur wished to fathom him out.

“Elyan will be fine, sire. He suffers no permanent effects from the possession.” Merlin stood and felt Arthur’s face and placed his other hand on Arthur’s chest. “Your heart rate was racing earlier but seems to be returning to normal.”

Arthur turned away; he was too close to having his emotions spill over, and that was not acceptable.

“Are you feeling alright, Arthur?”

Arthur nodded and cleared his throat. “I’m tired, but I’ll be fine. My only concern is Elyan. Are you certain he will not suffer any after-effects of the possession?”

“I am sure, sire,” Gaius said, not unkindly but with a tinge of exasperation. “Merlin did the right thing by getting the two of you to me as quickly as he did. Now Merlin, you need to get the king to bed and make sure he gets plenty of sleep. He’s suffered a great shock tonight. Rest is the only cure.” 

Arthur didn’t at all appreciate being talked about as if he weren’t present, but what Gaius said was true. He had a busy day ahead and could ill-afford to be at less than his best. There had been unrest in Nemeth, which threatened to spread to Camelot, and he and his councillors were to meet to discuss solutions.

Just another of those tedious responsibilities of the king that he’d rather not have to deal with.

Arthur could hear himself talking to Merlin as they walked to his chambers, but exactly what he said he couldn’t say. Perhaps Merlin might have mentioned something about Percival being caught snogging Lady Miche the week previous when the delegation from Mercia had come to Camelot, and Arthur might have responded with a lewd comment about Percival’s theoretical upcoming stag night that would bring the kingdoms of Mercia and Camelot together for all eternity.

Then they were in his rooms and Arthur felt as Merlin removed his cloak, which was wet with sick, mud, and perspiration. He was sat at the table and immediately smelled an array of foods before him. He hadn’t thought he was hungry, but now that he sat before the lovely aroma of food he realised that he was indeed famished. 

He couldn’t eat fast enough.

“Take it easy, sire. The food isn’t going anywhere,” Merlin said, mirth in his voice. “You’re going to make yourself sick.”

Arthur glared, but he had to admit that maybe Merlin had a point, so he slowed his pace until he had eaten his fill. It was only when he set down his goblet that he looked at Merlin and noticed how harried his servant appeared. 

Arthur knew he was the reason and, though he almost never felt sorry for overworking Merlin, he felt immense grief for that in this moment.

“I nearly got Elyan killed,” Arthur said, a new wave of regret washing over him. “Could you hear the voice of the little boy? He sounded sad. I did that to him, Merlin,” Arthur finished, shaking his head in resignation.

“I did,” Merlin replied in little more than a whisper as he stood and cleared the table. “Elyan’s going to be fine, Arthur. You appeased the spirit.”

“But did I? How could I have ordered their deaths?”

“Was it you, or was it your father that ordered you to lead that raid, Arthur? What were you then… seventeen? I doubt you went out and had those people slaughtered without a directive from the king.”

“I had only the day before celebrated my seventeenth year, and of course it was on orders from my father that I led that raid, but _I_ was the one in charge of that patrol. It was _my_ fault. Their deaths are on _me_.” Arthur stared into Merlin’s eyes, wondering what his ever-faithful servant could possibly say to mitigate these words.

“Are there any other camps out there that you should be wary of?” Merlin asked as he sat down again.

Arthur shook his head and looked towards the window. “No, after that day my father never allowed me to lead another raid. Something about me telling the knights to spare the lives of a group of boys.” Arthur waited for Merlin to respond, but he didn’t, so Arthur allowed his thoughts to take him back to that day seven years in the past.

 

_“I am counting on you today, Arthur. Others feel you are too young, not mature enough to lead this raid. I have defended you to each and every one of them. Do not let me down. We must rid this blight known as sorcery once and for all, and as these people insist on retaining the old ways, they must be dealt with.”_

_“Yes, Father,” said Arthur as he mounted his horse and looked around him to see how many others had heard this_ motivational _speech by his father. Leon gave him a commiserating grin and motioned for Arthur to join him. One final look back at his father, Arthur ordered his horse to go._

 

Arthur had been an untested seventeen-year-old. Yes, he had been trained well and had, even at that young age, been able to best each and every one of his knights—with the exception of Leon—but he had not felt up to the task of what his father had asked of him. Training was far different from true combat, and this hadn’t even been a fair fight—those innocent souls hadn’t stood a chance after being pounced upon unawares.

“Gaius says you need rest, sire. Perhaps an early night would be advisable.” 

Arthur turned towards his bed and watched as Merlin turned down the covers and readied the bed for him. Arthur thought he should protest, but now that he was full he remembered how tired he was, so he reluctantly turned and made his way to the bed and sat down and watched as Merlin went to his wardrobe and retrieved his sleeping clothes.

Once he was dressed for sleep, Arthur lifted his legs and got under the covers. He thought he could probably sleep for hours. “Before you go you need to finish polishing my armour that you didn’t finish from earlier. It’s exactly where you left it,” he said, no real ire behind it, but Merlin gave him a cheeky sneer all the same. Arthur had to work hard not to smile as Merlin closed the bed curtains.

He really should put his servant in his place.

But what would be the fun in that when the very thing that drew Arthur to Merlin was his almost constant insubordination?

Arthur closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but it evaded him and, after tossing and turning for what seemed like an eternity but in reality was probably not long at all, he knew he would get little to no sleep this night. He could hear Merlin working in the background, and the near-silence was almost deafening. “Are you certain that Elyan will be okay, Merlin?” he asked.

“Sire?”

“You heard me.”

“You saw with your own eyes that the spirit left and that Elyan is back.”

“Yes, I did. But there were others. That little boy wasn’t the only one whose death is my fault.”

“Yes, but as far as we know, Elyan disturbed only that little boy’s restless spirit.”

Arthur wanted to believe Merlin. “What would I have said to Guinevere had her brother been killed because of me? She would have never forgiven me.” Arthur expected a response to this but when he did not receive one quickly enough, he sighed. “Merlin, that was a question,” he said gruffly.

“Sire, Elyan is very much alive, and Gwen is not here. What would you have me say?”

“Was I right to banish her? What is worse about what she did than what I did? I was responsible for the deaths of an entire Druid camp. She had the audacity to love someone who wasn’t me. So how is it that she is now gods knows where and I am King of Camelot?” 

“Sire?” Merlin again said, sounding confused. He most likely had plenty to say on the matter, but he also no doubt realised that anything he said would be the wrong thing. He had, after all, plenty of practice witnessing Arthur’s moods.

“Don’t mind me, Merlin. I’m merely feeling sorry for myself. It’s not your fault that I am a failure at everything I touch.” It was a rare admittance, one that Arthur hadn’t meant to voice, but the past few hours had been emotional. Arthur was entitled to a modicum of self-pity every now and then. Was he not?

“You can send for her, sire. It is not too late.” Merlin must have stood because his voice sounded closer now.

Arthur shook his head but realised Merlin couldn't see him. “No, she is better off without me. Lancelot was always the better man. Guinevere deserves someone who loves her with all their heart.”

“But you did, sire, did you not?”

Arthur took a deep breath. “There was a time that I did; there was a time I would have done anything for her.”

“But not now?” Merlin asked as he opened the bed curtains and sat on the edge of the bed, looking at Arthur with concern.

Arthur, somewhat taken aback at Merlin’s sudden presence and audacity at sitting on his bed without being invited, glared, as if he thought that would cause Merlin to stand and leave. He wanted to make a caustic remark about how entitled Merlin seemed these days—lording his cheeky ways around the royal chambers as if they were his own—but this was neither the time nor the place. He shook his head.

“What has changed?” Merlin asked as he reached out a hand and grabbed a spare pillow, settling it in his lap as he looked at Arthur, something akin to a challenge in his eyes.

Arthur sighed and wished he had it in him to ask Merlin to leave. The brat was traversing on shaky ground and he had to know it. This was none of his servant’s business. 

Arthur was momentarily stunned into silence. Had Merlin asked this leading question on purpose? Arthur had often wondered about Merlin and his feelings towards him… but he had never ever allowed himself to truly hope, because what good was all the hope in the world when you couldn’t do anything about it?

Not up to having this conversation, but knowing that there would never be a good time for it, Arthur sat up and let the covers fall from his chest. “Elyan was the one who gave you that bump on your head last night, was he not, Merlin? You didn’t trip over a root.”

Merlin turned away, but Arthur didn’t miss the sudden intake of breath.

“Either it was or it wasn’t Elyan. No need to look like a wounded pup. I understand you are an idiot most of the time, but this was not one of those times, was it?” Arthur needed an answer.

“It was Elyan, sire.” Merlin said nervously.

“You were trying to help him were you not?”

“I was.” Again, Merlin sounded much too nervous, but then he turned back around so he faced Arthur, his gaze intense.

“You were foolish to confront him.”

Merlin grinned. “Perhaps so, sire, but I am your servant and have been given the task of protecting you. That is what I intended to do last night.”

Arthur laughed. “You are my serving boy, Merlin. You have many responsibilities, but protecting me is not one of them. I have knights and guards to do that.” But as he said this, Merlin’s face seemed to fall and he looked sadder than Arthur had ever seen him. “Why would you think it your responsibility to keep me safe?”

“I just do, Arthur. As I have tried to tell you in the past, I can’t explain it to you. It’s just how it is.”

Arthur nodded. “You really do think it your responsibility to keep me safe, don’t you?” Arthur was truly perplexed. But then again, maybe he wasn’t.

Merlin nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

“Do you not think Leon, Gwaine, Percival, Elyan, and the others have the abilities to protect me? I dare say they would disagree with you, Merlin.” Arthur stared into Merlin’s eyes, daring him to be truthful for once.

“Of course I think they are up to the task, sire. They are more than capable of doing so.” The _just not quite up to my standards when it comes to protecting you,_ was left unspoken, which nearly had Arthur laugh out, but he schooled his face; this was serious.

“Then why do you think it is up to you to protect me? There is nothing in your job description stating that you are my keeper. None of my previous servants thought it their duty to protect me.”

Arthur knew of only one explanation that made sense, and as ridiculous as the idea was, as he watched Merlin looking around the room, at everything other than his master, he knew without a doubt that he was right. What other explanation could there be? It wasn’t as if Merlin, with his wiry, gangly frame, and his clumsy ways, could truly keep Arthur safe. 

The mere thought was laughable.

Merlin wanted him and Arthur to be more than the servant-master they now were.

It was a heady realisation, one that he had known for some time if he were honest with himself.

And he was going to do something about it.

If Merlin was agreeable.

Yes, it was foolish. Arthur had just suffered a rather deep shock at seeing one of his knights possessed and nearly killed, and he had no business doing anything other than going to bed and getting a full night’s sleep. Gaius would no doubt be disappointed if he found out his patient had disobeyed his orders, but he would never have to know would he? 

And what was wrong with Arthur and Merlin forgetting about what had happened by comforting each other for a few hours? Everything would still be the same when the sun came up as it was now, but Arthur knew that everything would be more bearable if he knew Merlin was with him.

Of course, Arthur knew he would no doubt regret everything in the morning, but that would be several hours from now. 

He would not regret anything before then, and truth be told, he could never truly regret giving himself one night with the man he loved.

It would haunt him for the rest of his days, but do it he would.

“Would you stay the night with me, Merlin?” he asked, his voice only trembling slightly as he asked. Was he really doing this?

“Sire?” Merlin asked, looking bewildered and innocent, his beautiful, expressive eyes imploring Arthur to please explain.

“Cease with this sire business, Merlin. You rarely ever used that title in private before, but since Guinevere left you have acted formal and distant around me. I demand that you return to calling me by my name.” Arthur knew he was being snide and acting entirely too entitled in such an intimate setting, but he couldn’t help himself; he missed the ease and camaraderie that had once flowed between him and Merlin.

“Okayyy,” said Merlin, a befuddled expression on his face. “Are you asking me to stay with you or are you ordering me to do so … _Arthur_?”

Arthur guffawed. “As if I could order you to do anything. Don’t be such a girl, Merlin. If you don’t wish to share my bed with me, return to your rooms. I do not force myself on anyone.” He sighed. Why had he thought this a good idea?

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to share your bed with you, Arthur, but I think this a bad idea. You heard what Gaius said. You should be resting. And even if you hadn’t been given orders to rest, you have a busy day tomorrow. And you are most likely only saying these things to me because you have been under immense stress. I know you. You will wake in the morning and regret our actions if we do this.” Merlin looked far more hurt after saying this than Arthur thought he should.

Merlin’s bottom lip stuck out and Arthur wanted nothing more than to close the distance and suck it into his mouth. Instead, he let out another laugh, this one much less happy. “Of course I will regret this, but I seem to wake up each and every morning regretting what I have done the day before. Why should this be any different?”

Merlin continued staring at Arthur, looking like a wounded animal. Arthur almost told him to go get some sleep, but instead he slowly crawled to the foot of the bed and made his way over to Merlin.

“When we wake in the morning, I have no doubt that there will be regret, but not because of the reasons you think, Merlin. I will regret that I have allowed myself a piece of heaven for a brief moment, knowing I will have to return to living my life in a place called hell.”

Merlin let out a rather put-upon sigh. “That’s, erm, poetic and dramatic. You have no doubt been talking to Sir Leon’s wife. So, tell me, Arthur, do you fancy me? And no poetic skirting this time. It’s either yes or no.”

Hurt by Merlin’s flippancy, Arthur frowned, but he wasn’t unaware that Merlin was merely protecting himself and attempting to do the same for his overly emotional king. “Yes, Merlin, I do,” said an exasperated Arthur, regretting immediately that he had been truthful. “As much as I wish I didn’t, I do. Am I wrong to think you share these feelings?” 

It looked as if it cost Merlin every ounce of nerve he had, but he finally nodded, looking entirely too lovely as he did so. “Of course I do. Pardon me for being obtuse, Arthur, but if we both want the same thing, I don’t see the problem. As I said, I know you will regret this, but why? Why must you return to _hell_? We are adults and what we do is no one else’s business. If you and I want to spend every night together, that is our business.”

Oh how Arthur wished it were that easy. “You know who I am, Merlin, and what I am expected to do. It matters little what I want. This thing between us can never be more than what we are about to share, so why fool ourselves into thinking otherwise?”

Merlin harrumphed. “Why indeed?” he said matter-of-factly. “It would be better if I left now and went to my room, but as you are well aware, I have never done the thing that is _better_ for me, have I? As you remind me on a daily basis, I am foolish. So if you want my opinion, which I am quite sure you don’t, I would say the hell with what you are expected to do. If and when that day comes that you should marry and have a child, then we can deal with it then. Until then why can’t we have what we want? You deserve to be happy.”

Arthur didn’t miss the absence of anything about Merlin’s happiness in that statement, and it was that which propelled Arthur to take action. He knew there could be nothing more past this night, but Arthur wanted to make Merlin happy—he wanted to see him smile.

He searched Merlin’s eyes, then leant in and gently kissed him. It was tentative. Painfully so. But an affirmative nod and a huge grin from Merlin as he relaxed into Arthur’s embrace was all the answer Arthur needed.

Neither of them spoke as they began the slow, methodical task of divesting each other of their clothing, and when they moved their activities to the head of Arthur’s bed, Merlin pulled back just enough so he could look into Arthur’s eyes. He let out the sweetest laugh, which made his eyes crinkle. Arthur would never tire of Merlin looking at him that way.

“As I said earlier, you are meant to be resting, Arthur. I don’t think what we are about to do will help in that regard. Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, trying to look concerned, but his dilated pupils and heavy breathing were proof that his concern was probably only a formality, and he would not be happy if Arthur stopped whatever it was they were about to do.

Arthur thought how best to respond, but, really, there was nothing to say to that, so he chose to stay silent and let his actions speak for themselves. He grinned ferally before scooting down so his head hovered above Merlin’s swollen cock. He and Merlin stared at each other for several seconds before Arthur lowered his head and swallowed every bit of Merlin’s substantial offerings and began sucking on it with all the force he could muster. 

Let that be his answer.

Merlin might have screamed Arthur’s name a fair few times and called his king a god, and when he came some time later, his ejaculate pulsing itself down Arthur’s throat, Merlin was the image of beauty, his body coated in a sheen of perspiration that glistened in the moonlight.

“I want you inside me, Arthur,” Merlin said once he had regained the ability to speak. “I want to feel you filling me.”

Arthur wanted to do that very thing, and once he found the oil he kept beside his bed, he wasted no time preparing Merlin. When his fingers breached Merlin’s tiny hole, he worried that there was no way he would fit inside, but ever so slowly the opening widened and became more pliant and welcomed additional digits with more ease as the seconds passed by.

“Please, Arthur. Now.”

Arthur withdrew his fingers and resumed his place beside Merlin. “How do you want to do this? I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Merlin’s grin was absolutely sinful. “You won’t hurt me, but as you are still recovering from quite the shock, we need to be careful. Gaius would not be happy if he knew what we were doing. Spoon me and take me that way.”

Arthur barely managed to withhold a groan. Why did Merlin have to bring Gaius into the conversation? The last thing he wanted to think about was what Merlin’s guardian would think about what his ward and the king were about to do. And as if that weren’t bad enough, Arthur wasn’t happy because there was no way he would be able to feel Merlin as much as he wanted if they did this from the side. Yes, he had asked how Merlin wanted to do this, but he’d assumed Merlin would tell him it didn’t matter.

“Why the frown?” Merlin asked as he ran his fingers down Arthur’s face. “I will make it good for you. I promise.”

And Merlin looked so sincere that Arthur decided he didn’t even care that this wouldn’t be what he wanted. It would be what Merlin wanted, and that was all that mattered, wasn’t it? Yes, Arthur was the king, and usually he was all about his own happiness, but sometimes there were more important things.

Merlin was definitely one of those.

Once Merlin had turned his back to him, Arthur lined himself up so that his cock teased Merlin’s opening, and slowly he began pushing in. It was tight and took him longer than usual to get himself all the way inside, but once he was there he thought he never wanted to leave. Merlin’s tight little hole enveloped him in such warmth. And he realised in that moment that he was happier and more content than he had been in a long while.

“Move?” Merlin said, his breath now coming quick and harsh.

Arthur made a few small thrusts to test things out, and soon he was moving quicker, but as he had feared, he wasn’t able to get as far inside Merlin as he wanted. He tried to be an adult about it, but he really did want to feel the farthest reaches of Merlin. This just wasn’t doing it.

“You obviously do not entertain many men in your bed, Arthur,” Merlin said with some small measure of mirth. “Use my legs. Wrap yours around mine and pull me into you. I assure you you won’t be disappointed,” Merlin added, laughter in his voice as he pulled away from Arthur and as they repositioned their bodies. “Who knew you were so moody in bed. I guess I am going to have to shut you up, aren’t I?”

And Merlin did that very thing because, of course, when Arthur pushed back inside Merlin and used Merlin's legs to propel himself deeper, he experienced the most intense feeling he’d ever known, and he wasn’t anywhere near ready to orgasm. Who knew that it could feel this good? As satisfying as most of his previous bed partners had been, they had merely warmed his bed and sated an immediate need. Arthur had always been left wanting so much more. 

Merlin was that... and so much more.

Arthur had always considered his servant to be on the tiny side because of his thin frame, but now lying beside him, his legs wrapped around Merlin’s, the two of them using the other for leverage, Arthur reassessed things.

Appearances could be deceiving.

Arthur soon lost control and began ramming into Merlin with sharp thrusts, and when he came it was with a grunt and Merlin’s name on his lips.

It took a long while for him to come back to himself, but when he did, Arthur withdrew from Merlin and was both heartened and devastated when Merlin turned to face him, those blue eyes looking at him with such reverence.

This had felt more right than anything in Arthur’s life ever had, but it couldn’t continue. With trembling hands he cupped Merlin’s face in his hands and allowed himself to lose himself momentarily in those beautiful blue eyes. He then leant in and kissed Merlin, but when Merlin attempted to kiss him back, Arthur reluctantly pulled away. 

He couldn’t do this to Merlin. Merlin deserved to find someone who was free to love him as he deserved to be loved.

From the time Arthur was a young boy he had scowled when listening to others talking about arranged marriages, but he had known in the back of his mind that was more than likely his fate. While his father had married his mother because they were in love, that was the exception, not the rule. Certainly, Arthur would not be so fortunate.

Only he had when he had fallen in love with Guinevere and asked her to marry him. But then that had all gone away in the blink of an eye and now Arthur realised that he wasn’t meant to be with the one he loved, even if the one he loved above everyone else, the person who had captured Arthur’s heart, mind, and soul almost seven years in the past,was at this very moment so close that Arthur could smell his breath (which wasn’t exactly sweet at the moment).

Merlin was not someone Arthur could ever marry (if this weren’t the case, Arthur would have long ago had Merlin in his bed and by his side in an official capacity), and there was no denying that fact. It hurt. So damned much. But all the hurt in the world wouldn’t change the outcome. 

Arthur was the king and had responsibilities.

“Merlin,” he said, taking a deep breath and trying with every ounce of strength he had not to allow his voice to break, “I need you to go back to your rooms and to act as if this”—and at this he pointed in between himself and Merlin as if the _this_ he was referring to needed clarifying—“never happened. Let us not speak of it again. Please,” he begged with his eyes when Merlin looked at him, a crestfallen expression on his face. “How can I ever be expected to marry and have an heir with anyone else after what you and I shared? I don’t know how I am to do that, Merlin, but do it I must. The only way I can is if I do not allow myself to fall for you any more than I already have. I’m sorry. Truly.”

Arthur watched with tear-filled eyes as Merlin slowly got out of the bed and as he dressed, his red, puffy eyes never leaving Arthur’s, never speaking a word as he tied his red neckerchief around his neck and as he put on his boots. Arthur didn’t miss the tears that began to fall as Merlin stood and walked towards the servant’s door, and he didn’t miss as Merlin turned to him and mouthed something. What it was Arthur had no idea, but had he seen Merlin’s eyes turn gold?

Surely not. It was likely Arthur’s mind was merely playing tricks on him. If Merlin had magic he would have surely told him. Or would he have? Arthur wanted to think so, but Camelot had never been friendly to those with magic.

He opened his mouth—whether to ask if Merlin’s eyes has turned gold or to tell Merlin he’d changed his mind… that now he was king he could make the rules and be with whomever he wanted he wasn’t sure—but Merlin left before he could say anything.

A sudden wave of tiredness came over Arthur.

Perplexed, he turned towards the window and wondered why he was still awake at this hour. He calculated that he had almost two hours before Merlin would come in and wake him. He normally never woke before Merlin forced him to do so, and as he had an extra busy day ahead—he planned to visit with Elyan as soon as he had breakfast and again apologise for nearly getting him killed, and he had to meet with his councillors about relations with the neighboring kingdom of Nemeth--he knew he needed to get plenty of sleep.

He wanted to be rested and back to himself for these meetings. He didn’t want Elyan to see him continuing to suffer the effects of the previous night’s debacle that had nearly ended in tragedy, and he needed to appear in command and unwavering in his meeting. 

When Arthur finally fell asleep he dreamt of dark hair, swollen lips, beautiful eyes, loving words, and pleasurable lovemaking, and when he awoke he had no idea why he had dreamt about those things.

He had long ago decided to forget his dream of having Merlin for his own.

It would only end in heartache.


End file.
